


The Cat And The Wolf

by Queenxo



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Caring Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cat School (The Witcher), Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, F/F, First Time, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Kaer Morhen, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent Death, Parent Letho, Parent Vesemir (The Witcher), Part-Elf Jaskier | Dandelion, Past Rape/Non-con, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Sparring, Torture, Witcher Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher Training (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27602531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenxo/pseuds/Queenxo
Summary: Julian flees to Kaer Morhen to seek refuge during winter after the death of his father, having nowhere else to turn he seeks out the Wolves. Other Cat Witchers conspire to rid the world of Julian, seeing him as nothing more than an abomination.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 19
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> New chapter will be posted weekly, posting will be on Tuesday, I hope you all enjoy. Please comment and let me know what you think. I can be found on Tumblr @queen18xo :)

Julian swallowed his nerves as the daunting exterior of Kaer Morhen stood unmovable against the swirling snowstorm that lashed ferociously at its ancient walls, the late morning winter sun allowing shadows to dance across the worn face of the Wolves keep. Julian's blood raced in his veins as he stepped across the threshold, avoiding mangled remains of the once impenetrable iron gates. The Cats cheeks are beaten red as the icy wind whips at his face; he pulls his winter cloak tighter around his slim frame as he advances on the Wolves territory. 

Trembling, white-knuckled fist clenched to his side; his other scarred hand reached out to push the dense, dark Oak door. The door itself was adorned with beautiful gold markings, the once bright gleam, dulled over the centuries, minuscule cracks sparsely littered the exterior of the weathered Oak. 

Julian jumped back in surprise as the door was torn open before him, beneath the doorways intricately sculpted archway stood a short-tempered Wolf Witcher, Julian recognised him as Lambert, the baby amongst the remaining Wolf Witchers. 

Stood before Lambert Julian valiantly tried to contain the way he shook in his time-worn leather boots, the onslaught of the icy wind and wet snow freezing his blood as it raced through his veins. Behind Lambert appeared three other hulking Wolves. 

Wolves had large frames filled with bulging muscle, proficient at protecting them from the elements, in contrast to the Wolf Witchers, Cats were built for stealth and finesse. Therefore, they had slim frames with sleek, compact muscle making them more susceptible to the cold. 

"You lost Kitten?" Lambert rumbled his rasping voice grating to Julian's sensitive ears, the air whistling as his dagger sliced through it was the only warning lambert was received before the cold steel of the Cats blade pressed dangerously to the hollow of the Wolf's throat. 

"Careful who you call Kitten, Pup" Julian snarled, applying a fraction more force allowing the blade to draw a pearl of crimson blood before removing it from the vulnerable flesh of the younger man's throat. 

"My sweet Julek" Vesemir the eldest of the remaining Wolf Witchers exclaims earnestly from where he stands flanking Lambert, a tender exasperation clouding his bright eyes, the other Wolves turning to watch their elder curiously as a warm smile splits his lips. Vesemir opens his arms silently, encouraging the young Cat to embrace him, much to the chagrin of the younger Wolves, threatening growls rumbling lowly from their throats. 

Jaskier tucks himself against the older Witcher's body, burying his face into the crook of Vesemir's neck, he chokes on a breath as he takes comfort in the familiarity of Vesemir's arms holding him securely. He inhales deeply, the scent of Vesmir and his father intimately woven together, his father's musky scent nearly knocking him to his knees. "Why are you here, sweet boy?" 

Julian drew a shaky breath as he straightens himself to meet Vesemir's searching gaze, his bright blue eyes clouded with tears a look altogether unfamiliar amongst Witchers. Vesemir frowned down at the younger man, concern marring his features. "Let's go somewhere private child, Geralt come," Vesemir commands sweeping the two younger Witchers from the entryway.

Once secured in a Vesemir's study, the elder gently manoeuvres the young Cat into a large, plush armchair. Himself and Geralt silently watching as the young Cat curls in on himself his breathing stuttering as the salty tang of tears permeate the air. "What has happened Julek?" Vesemir asks, the older Witcher gently brushes a strand of Julian's dark hair from his face as he sits perched on the arm of the seat. 

"He's gone Ves, Letho... My dad... Oh God" Julian sobs distraught, the power of his cries shaking his slender form, images of his fathers bloody, beaten corpse haunting him. Vesemir cards his fingers through Julian's hair comfortingly, the motions familiar from the many years Vesemir had assisted his father in raising him, a sorrowful smile pulled at Julian's lips under Vesemir's comforting ministrations. Above the young Witcher, a silent tear streaks down Vesemir's cheek as the older man fights back bouts of his own tears.

"Oh, dear boy," The older Witcher whispers brokenly into the still air of the study, his throat thick with emotion as he speaks. Vesemir pulls the Cat against his chest his calloused and scarred hands gentle as they card through the length of chestnut brown locks. 

"Geralt would you get Julian here settled into one of the spare rooms?" Geral grunts his ascent, causing Vesemir to shake his head over the Witcher's customary non-verbal communication. "Do you have anything with you, Julian?" The younger man shakes his head, more tears slipping from his eyes, he had fled with nothing more than the swords strapped to his back, and his daggers tucked tightly against his thighs. Vesemir flicked his eyes over to Geralt, silently asking the Wolf to provide the younger Witcher with clothes. 

"Come" Geralt grumbled exiting the room feeling the heat of Julian's watery blue eyes trained on his back, he waited a step outside the study providing the two men with some semblance of privacy while he waited for Julian to follow. 

Julian nuzzles against the palm of Vesemir's secure grip as he holds the boy's cheeks in the palms of his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs clearing the falling tears from his slitted blue eyes. "You can trust him Julek; he will take care of you, for now, I am afraid I will be of little use to you for a while dear boy" Vesemir states sadly his warm golden eyes clouded with tears. 

"I'm so sorry Ves, I shouldn't have come here, I didn't know where else to go... You're all I have now." Sobs tare through Julian's lithe body once more, Vesemir quietly comforting the boy as he waits for the flood of tears to slow. 

"Nonsense Julek, you will always be my son, my family. Now go with Geralt, you need to rest" Vesemir urges him out of the chair, gently pushing him in the direction of Geralt. 

In the cold stone hallway, Julian's blue eyes meet Geralt's for the first time; the younger Witcher's breath catches in his throat, all Witchers had golden cat eyes. However, Geralt's golden eyes glowed vibrantly in a way unique to the abrasive Witcher. "Are you done?" Geralt, the white-haired Witcher snapped, his powerful arms crossed defensively across his muscular chest. 

Julian cleared his throat awkwardly, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment over being caught gawking at the older man so obviously. "Lead the way dear-heart" Julian encouraged, ducking into an overdramatic sweeping bow, gesturing for the man to lead. Geralt growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating through Julian's body as he obligingly followed the White Wolfs direction. 

Julian watched in fascination as they passed through the desolate halls of Kaer Morhen, the howling of the frozen winds could be heard lashing against the keeps resilient stone exterior. Geralt's steps echoed ominously across the vast expanse of the corridors they tracked through, Julian flinched discreetly with every echoing step and every ghostly howl of the biting wind. Julian grazed his agile fingertips along the uneven surface of the stone wall, the coarse texture scratching, turning his fingertips a glowing red. 

Julain startles as Geralt's large, calloused palm covers his smaller hand, pulling it from the walls rough exterior, Geralt grunts, his eyes belying his disapproval as his golden orbs meet with Julian's glittering blue eyes. The older Witcher shakes his head turning back to continue trudging through the corridor his eyes resolutely trained on the path ahead as he escorts Julian to one of the numerous spare rooms.


	2. Chapter Two

Julian stood in the spacious room and not for the first time he noted how ghastly and decrepit the interior of the keep had become. Witchers were dwindling in numbers, and Kaer Morhen was one of the last remaining Witcher's keeps, all the others had inevitably fallen victim to the harsh years. 

The room was barren, the few items of furniture scattered across the room rotting, his bed was no more than planks of wood nailed together with a moth-eaten mattress sprawled across it. There were holes of various sizes in the stone walls, decades of rubble dotted across the floor. The brick archway above his door was cracked and crumbling. There was a decent-sized fireplace; the exterior was made of worn bricks which had begun to crack much like the stairs throughout Kaer Morhen. 

A table stood in the middle of the room; it consisted of uneven planks of wood, all the planks varying in length. The wood itself appeared to be slowly rotting. There were cracks across the floor, the sight of which caused Julian to feel slightly unnerved, as he had no desire to go tumbling through the floor should it collapse beneath him. The keep was in a shocking state of disrepair, and Julian felt troubled seeing it in such a sad state. 

Julian was still safely tucked into his least constricting armour; the armour itself was light, allowing him to reach the Wolves keep quicker. His light armour allowed him a more comprehensive range of movement, however, it was not adequate at protecting him from damage or cold weather. Thankfully his long billowing black cloak still provided him with some warmth as he stood in the drafty room that had now been claimed as his. He had a long white tunic hidden beneath his chest plate; the damp tunic clung to his body, the white slowly stained a murky grey from the weeks of travel he had endured. Julian's face was scrunched with disgust as he turned to face the White Wolf, who stood behind him watching the Cat, golden eyes gleaming with cold indifference. 

"Could I trouble you for a change of clothes, dear?" Julian asked, his mannerisms had always been courtly, regardless of growing up with two Witchers for fathers. Geralt's brows furrowed in confusion, unused to being addressed politely, Julian grinned, the look of confusion suited Geralt in his opinion, not that the Wolf was likely to care about his opinion. 

"You will have to wear my clothes," Geralt grunted out, the fact that no one else would be willing to share clothes with him went unsaid. Geralt's impassive expression didn't fool Julian though, the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot, his arms crossing over his chest as if to create a barrier between himself and the unfamiliar Witcher showcased his discomfort. 

"Look I can-" Geralt grunted stomping out of the room, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly in the barren hallway separating their rooms. Julian watched the man’s retreating back, his mouth dropping open with an affronted huff as he mentally berated the older Witcher. 

Julian remained where he stood, tapping his foot impatiently as he awaited the White Wolf's return. Upon said return, the Witcher in question threw the bundle of offered clothes into Julian's face before storming back out the room, growling low in his chest as he left. Julian squeaked in surprise as he was assaulted by the clothing, his hands flying up to catch the items before they could continue their descent to the floor. 

"Well, that was rude," he observed, walking further into the room and slamming the door shut behind him in an unnecessary show of his annoyance. He hadn't precisely expected a warm welcome from the Wolves, but Geralt was supposed to be the tolerable one, and yet so far he had cut Julian off mid-sentence, thrown his clothes at him and barely spoken to him. Geralt was gruff and abrasive, and Julian found it particularly aggravating. His face flushed with annoyance he made his way to the rickety bed to change. 

Julian peeled the restrictive material of his tunic from his torso, replacing it with Geralt's. The Wolf's tunic hung loosely from his frame, the dark colour made a stark contrast against his milky skin. He opted not to wear Geralt's trousers; they were much too large for his dainty waist. He breathed in deeply, the White Wolf's alluring scent surrounded him entirely, he breathed a sigh of relief, tension flooding from his aching muscles for the first time since losing his father, the Wolf's natural musk unexpectedly comforting.   
~~~  
Walking through the keep was daunting; there were countless bedrooms as well as larger rooms which no longer seemed to serve a purpose. There were an excessive amount of staircases, all of which had begun to fall apart, most appeared to be unusable from the passing glance Julian spared them. 

On silent feet, Julian tracked through the empty corridors of Kaer Morhen, the wind rattling through the halls, the cold breeze raising gooseflesh over his skin beneath the long sleeves of Geralt's tunic. Rubble littered the floor, staircases turned to piles of rock, walls which echoed and groaned as they crumbled to pieces all created an ominous environment which had Julian on edge as he tried to locate the kitchen. 

He could already feel the heat emanating from the kitchen; he could hear the scuffle of feet and hushed conversations; of which he had no doubt he was the topic. Julian could smell meat stewing, the crackle of the fire could be heard as he paced the neverending halls of the Wolves keep. He stood, back pressed to the cold, rough exterior of the entrance watching as the four Witchers bustled around the kitchen, unaware of his presence. 

The kitchen had two large wooden tables in the middle of the room, unlike the table in his chambers; these tables appeared well cared for. Across the table were various scraps of meat and vegetables, bloodstains soaked through into the surface of the hardwood. Beneath table spilling from large wicker baskets sat an assortment of seasonal fruits and vegetables. 

Two fires were roaring: one large, one small, inside the larger fire dangled a steel chain attached to a pot; there was a second chain which appeared to have broken, there were no more than a couple of inches of it left. The smaller fire sat beside the large one. It had a little pot dangling above the vicious flames, beneath the pot was a slight stone arch, in front of the arched stone rested small bundles of wood ready to stoke the fire should it lose any heat. 

Beside the arched entrance to the kitchen were uneven wooden shelves which had been precariously nailed into the rough stone wall, the shelves had a wide range of spices and herbs all contained within jars, the Wolves had haphazardly thrown the little containers across the shelves. 

In the far corner of the room sat a pail filled to the brim with water, there was no steam rising from the surface, A cloth draped over the side of the wooden exterior. Julian rightly assumed the pot was for the Witchers to wash their hands while cooking. A fond smile crept onto his face, Vesemir always had been a stickler for good hygiene. 

Opposite the entrance, across the room, was another arch; this one, however, was lined with high vaulted windows. Three tall windows stood beneath the archway allowed natural light to stream into the otherwise dark kitchen. The arch itself was crumbling, holes of various sizes dotted across it, occasionally the Witchers would hear the echo of small clumps of stone falling to the floor. 

"You can't let him stay here, Ves; he doesn't belong here." Lambert barked at the older Witcher, who growled in return. Geralt stood stoically in the corner across the room, his burning golden gaze boring into Julian.

"Why don't you take your issue up with me pup?" Julian snarled grinning maliciously at the youngest Wolf as he made his presence known. He stalked into the room, his sharp teeth bared as he approached Lambert.

"Think you can take me Cat?" Lambert growled lowering his stance, preparing for the inevitable fight.

"I don't think sweetheart; I know." Julian purred, his low drawl borderline seductive, he flicked his eyes between Geralt and Vesemir anticipating one of the older Witchers intervening. However, both stood to the side. Geralt was as expressionless as ever and Vesemir looked on with an amused smirk. 

Lambert growled propelling himself forward. Julian bent his knees, lowering his stance he lept into the air, one of his long legs wrapping around the young Wolf's throat as he flew overhead, the movement trapping the young Witcher and pulling him to the ground. On the floor Lambert groaned loudly, gasping in lungfuls of air, he tapped Julian's leg twice, and the older man quickly released him. Julian offered out a hand to assist the other but found it rudely smacked away. Julian chuckled darkly, shaking his

"Whatever, pup," the older Witcher shrugged. 

Julian found Geralt's gaze locked on him once more, the man's eyes tracing over every inch of his body. The way his warm eyes bored into him made him feel uncomfortably exposed. His cheeks flushed under the man's unwavering exploration of his body. 

"Will you eat dear?" Vesemir called to him, a knowing glint in his eyes as he looked between the Wolf and the Cat, a small smile playing on his lips. 

"No, I'm rather tired it seems. I think I will retire for the evening, thank you." Julian choked out, Geralt's expression briefly flashed with concern as the Cat's striking blue eyes flickered up to meet his from beneath his long lashes. As Julian made his exit, Geralt for the first time, found himself wanting to follow a Cat.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy, comment and let me know what you thought.

Julian sat in his dilapidated chambers and finally gave in to his emotions, he quietly sniffled, tears silently rolling down his cheeks. Alone, Julian saw no point in wiping the tears from his cheeks, instead he allowed them to fall unimpeded. His cheeks were a bright blotchy red, the blue of his eyes brightened by the redness and the sheen of tears gathered at his waterline. It had been a little over a month since he lost his father but he hadn’t yet had a chance to mourn the man. Julian was always a sociable person, he loved people, and for the first time in his life he felt truly alone. 

It was common knowledge that Humans weren't a fan of Witchers, nor were they particularly fond of Elves, therefore Julian was entirely unliked by almost everyone he met. It was true that human Witchers received abuse of all types but none so much as Julian, who was often shunned by those of his own kind. Witchers saw him as an abomination, since after all, they were never meant to reproduce. Elves, although not outright hateful towards him, refused to accept him as one of them. Without his father, Julian had nowhere to belong. 

The door swung open and slammed against the stone wall violently, causing the already cracked frame to groan,Julian startled, the abrupt shifting of his weight combined with the fragility of the aged bed sent him crashing to the floor in a pile of wood and bedding. Julian groaned in pain, wiping the tears from his eyes he lifted his head to meet Geralt’s almost sheepish golden gaze.His blue irises burned with indignation. 

"Sweet Melitele, you- You brute!" Julian screeched from his position on the ground, his bum luckily protected from the floor's ice-cold surface by his tattered and raggedy bedding. Julian's voice was gruff and hoarse when he spoke, wholly unlike his usual sweet, melodic tones. “Don't you know how to knock?”

"Julian, are you... Hmm... Are you okay?" Geralt bit out, his face twisted into an unflattering frown. His eyes flickered between looking at Julian with concern and looking anywhere else. 

Despite himself, a fond smile tugged at the previously downturned corners of Julian’s cherry red lips. His fingertips tingled with the need to soothe the furrow between the White Wolf's well-defined eyebrows. Geralt's large body filled the doorway, his broad shoulders brushed the wooden frame of the door, and his silver hair shimmered in the dying daylight. Julian was captivated by the sight, it was uncommon for a Witcher to be defined as beautiful, however Julian could use no other word to describe the man before him.

Julian watched with nervous anticipation as the Wolf’s hulking frame advanced on him, his thumping footsteps ringing out through the silence. Julian squinted up at the Witcher who now towered above him, his shadow obscuring his view of anything that wasn't Geralt. Geralt grunted and leaned down to offer Julian one of his sword calloused hands, Julian gave him a timid smile and slipped his dainty hand into the Wolf’s larger one. The Cat revelled in the warmth of the hand surrounding his, the way rough callouses pressed against his own roughened palms caused a warm heat flow through his veins. 

Julian gaped in astonishment as the Wolf pulled his dead weight up till he was standing, he stood chest to chest with Geralt, barely a hairsbreadth between their lips as Julian tilted his face up to meet Geralt's golden gaze. A subtle pink flush coated Julian's sculpted cheekbones as he blinked up at the larger man. Geralt's breath ghosted over his lips as their quiet huffs mingled in the small space between them. 

"Come on," Geralt growled lowly, almost threateningly, the tonal change sufficiently breaking what Julian had foolishly allowed himself to perceive as a moment. Geralt tugged impatiently on Julian's wrist causing the shorter man squeaked as he stumbled, his hand connecting with Geralt's firm chest in a poor attempt to right himself. "Can't you walk?" Geralt asked dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone as he addressed the Cat. 

"Why, my dear I had no idea you had a sense of humour," the Cat scoffed, a wry grin twisting on his lips. He reluctantly pulled his hand from the heat of Geralt's grip. Lowering himself into a mock bow, Julian gestured for the Wolf to lead. "After you dear Wolf." Julian looked up at Geralt through a fan of long black eyelashes. 

"Hmm," Geralt grunted, sweeping out of the room with an elegance and grace that should be impossible with his stature. Julain was forever amazed by the man; he'd barely been in the Wolve’s keep a day, and yet he was utterly taken with the eldest of the Wolf brothers. 

~~~  
Once in the snow-covered courtyard of the keep, Geralt directed Julian to a chest of armour, the sheer quantity was astounding as the various pieces overflowed from the basket. "Something should fit you." Geralt's eyes scanned over his body sizing him up, Julian felt an uncomfortable urge to shield his smaller frame from Geralt's scrutiny. 

Once both Witchers were securely locked into medium armour, they moved over to where the Witchers stored their weaponry. Julian still had his two blades strapped tightly to the meat of his thighs, sufficiently hidden from view due to the length of his borrowed tunic. 

Julian jumped, staring up at Geralt with wide, startled eyes as one of the Witcher’s large palms brushed against the inside of his thigh. "You don't need that." Geralt murmured as he slid Julian's silver dagger from his sheath. The Cat sputtered words lost to him, his flesh still burning from the heat of Geralt's fingertips. 

Julian cleared his throat, a flush visible across his cheeks, as he ran his eyes over the row of swords hung before him. His eyes caught on Vesemir's seal, without thinking he reached for the sword, pulling it from where it hung against the wall. In his hands the blade was weightier than his own, but it was well balanced, and the hilt fit comfortably in his hand. A small smile formed on his lips as images of the many times this sword had laid beside his own, as well as his father’s over the many years the three had travelled together. 

"Ready?" Geralt turned away from the vast array of weaponry, instead making his way to the middle of the snowy courtyard. As Julian followed he caught three pairs of golden orbs fixed on himself and the White Wolf. He snorted, muttering to himself over the nosiness of the other Wolves. 

The two Witchers stood before each other, their faces steel masks of concentration. Julian's eyes gleamed dangerously in the dying sunlight as he and Geralt circled each other. The older Witcher moved steadily, waiting for Julian to strike. Julian pulled his steel dagger from its sheath, the dagger being his preferred weapon in any combat situation. 

Advancing on the Wolf, Julian slashed at Geralt with finesse, the sleek dagger carved at the air before his chest with well-timed flicks of Julian’s deceivingly dainty wrist. Geralt jumped to the left, spinning into an elegant pirouette to avoid the sharp steel dagger aimed at him. Julian spun in time to meet Geralt, steady on his feet he attacked with a renewed vigour. Geralt jumped out of the other Witcher’s reach, one of his fists connecting with the Cat's jaw as space grew between them. Julian growled, his startling blue eyes glinting dangerously in the winter sun. Geralt smirked maliciously back at the younger man. 

Julian spat, crimson blood dripping from his plump lips as he bared his abnormally sharp teeth threateningly at Geralt. "Not bad Wolf," The Cat Witcher sneered and used the back of his hand to wipe the remaining droplets of blood from his mouth. 

"Hmm, not bad yourself little one," the Wolf teased. Geralt smirked as he heard the deep threatening growl rumbling from the Cat's chest. Affronted, Julian threw himself at Geralt. The Wolf witcher skillfully cast Aard, sending the younger sprawling to the snow-covered cobblestones of Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. 

Julian winced as his back collided with the unforgiving ground. Baring his teeth once more he sprung to his feet, he regained his composure as he slowly advanced on Geralt, his feet sure beneath him despite the unfamiliar environment. Geralt stood begrudgingly impressed by the younger man's durability and adaptability, traits that were highly commendable amongst Witchers. 

Geralt pulled his steel sword from its sheath and raised it above his head in a glistening arc as the sun sparkled against its polished surface. Julian threw his dagger, the air whining as the steel blade sliced through it. Geralt's sword cut through the air, easily deflecting the airbourne dagger, the sleek blade clattering to the floor. Julian's sword hissed in the still winter air as it too was pulled from its sheath, the younger man brandishing it with a near-feral grin splitting his lips. 

The two witchers circled each other in a slowly tightening spiral, their swords glinting dangerously in the sun's warming rays. Julian attacked first with a high sweeping slice, the Wolf quick to meet his strike before the blow could land, an ear-piercing clang rang out across the desolate courtyard. The force behind Geralt's deflection effortlessly sent the sure-footed Cat stumbling back several steps. 

Geralt lowered his sword and watched as Julian advanced on him once more, his slow steps displaying his feline grace, the movements captivating and starkly different to the Wolf Witcher’s own movements. Julian tore the thick strip of chain mail from where it was wrapped precariously around his trim waist, with a flourish of his wrist he had the protective material spun around his forearm. 

With the chainmail tight around his forearm, Julian leapt, gliding effortlessly through the icy air between himself and the White Wolf. Julian's blade slid against Geralt's diagonal parry, the older Witcher spinning their swords in an effort to disarm the Cat. Julian's sword met his with a deafening clang, the two Witchers grunted, their faces flushed red with exertion, as their blades danced between their bodies. Julain sprung away, his sleek body soaring into the frigid air to attack the white-haired Witcher from above. Geralt swiftly lunged, catching the man in his descent, one of his large scarred hands wrapping around Julian's throat. He brought his sword up, the cold steel of it kissed the covered skin of his thigh as he slammed Julian into the snowy ground. 

The younger Witcher groaned in pain, back arching away from the frozen ground beneath him, his blue eyes glaring into Geralt's warm golden orbs as the Wolf held him in place. Julian rolled his eyes and grunted as he slapped the top of Geralt's hand, yielding the fight. The Wolf rose, the warmth of his body receding from Julian’s. Towering above the younger man, his large shadow engulfed Julian as he reached a hand out in offering to the other Witcher. Heat burned in their iris' as Julian's delicate hand entwined itself with Geralt's own larger one, allowing the man to pull Julian to his feet, their chests heaving as their breaths mingled in the meagre space separating them. "Thank you" Julian whispered, his warm breath mixed with the cold air surrounding them to form puffs of white clouds. 

"I broke your bed," Geralt grumbled quietly. Julian laughed gently, his eyes sparkling with fondness as he stared disbelievingly at the man in front of him. 

"What the fuck?" Lambert asked loudly, a few steps away from them where he now stood accompanied by a sniggering Vesemir and a smiling Eskel. Lambert's face was twisted in disgust as he looked between his brother and Julian. 

Julian turned on him with a mocking smirk; he shivered slightly as his Geralt's large frame was no longer sheltering him from the cold wind. "He fucked me straight through the frame," Julian stated, with no further explanation. 

Geralt's jaw dropped, a blush colouring his cheeks as he stared at the Cat. Lambert’s face morphed into a look of betrayal as he glared at Geralt, whose blush intensified under the scrutiny.

"Oh Julek, my dear boy I have missed your vulgar humour," Vesemir gasped out between fits of laughter. The Wolves turned to look at him incredulously, it finally dawned on them just how well their mentor knew the young Cat. "Geralt, since it appears to be your fault the boy doesn't have a bed he will share yours for tonight." Geralt hummed his agreement, his eyes flickering between Julian and Vesemir. 

Julian stepped forward embracing the eldest Wolf without a care for the three sets of eyes peering at them. Julian looked up at the man's aged face both their eyes clouded with emotions. Vesemir's hand came up to cup the Cat’s cheek. "You look so much like your father," Vesemir croaked, pulling the younger Witcher into a bone-crushing hug. 

"Now Geralt, Julek, go get cleaned up and off to bed, you two are making breakfast in the morning," Vesemir playfully smirked as he pushed Julian towards Geralt. The Cat slipped on the icy ground but just before he fell a corded arm wrapped around his waist, tugging him up firmly. He blushed fiercely as his back came into contact with a now-familiar chest, Geralt's arm curled protectively around Julian's waist. 

"Gross," Lambert muttered as he stormed away from the pair. Eskel and Vesemir trailed behind the hot-headed Witcher, both chuckled together as they walked. 

"Let's go," Geralt said. He pushed Julian away from himself, the icy air filling the gap where Geralt's torso had previously warmed his skin. Julian shook his head in disbelief; the Wolf was a strange mixture of hot and cold. Most people either liked him or they didn't, but when it came to Geralt, Julian was genuinely baffled as to which category the White Wolf fell into.

"As you wish, my dear," Julian murmured as he trailed behind Geralt, his mind a swirling mess of thoughts.


	4. Chapter Four

Julian woke up gradually, he lazily burrowed against the warm line of heat pressed to his back. The first thing he registered was the firm wall of muscle as he snuggled into it, the second thing he noticed was the deep rumbling coming from the person's chest as well as the warm puffs of breath ghosting across his nape. 

Julian turned into the warmth blinking his eyes open slowly, sleep-clouded golden eyes meeting his own. Julian's lips tugged up into a sleepy smile as he stared at Geralt laying beside him, pleasantly surprised the Wolf had allowed the Cat to snuggle further against him. Unthinkingly Julian grazed his fingertips against Geralt's cheek, brushing an errant strand of his silver hair from where it had fallen across his face. 

"Morning," Geralt rasped, voice gravelly and thick, his speech slightly slurred as the Wolf sleepily greeted Jaskier, the corners of his lips turned up into a barely-there smile. 

Julian cleared his throat awkwardly; his cheeks dusted a light pink colour as he tore his eyes from Geralt's, removing his hand from where it had brushed against the softness of the man's cheek. "Yes...Yes good morning, Geralt." The Cat Witcher stumbled over his words in his sleep muddled state. 

"Can... I um, ask you a question?" Geralt asked awkwardly, his eyes flicking away from Julian’s in embarrassment. They lay silently facing each other, their bodies sharing warmth in the cold room, the fire long since dead. 

"Of course, dear Wolf," Julian assured him, hoping the man's warm golden gaze would meet his once again. All Witchers besides Julian had golden Cat eyes, but none shone the way Geralt's did. The additional mutations Geralt had been subjected to had made the man wholly different than any other Witcher Julian had met. 

"How do you know Vesemir?" Geralt asked his voice still gravelly. He stretched out, one arm curling beneath his head as his eyes settled once more on Julian’s. Julian smiled warmly; he knew Geralt was bound to ask eventually, the nature of his and Vesemir's relationship had been a well-guarded secret kept from the Wolves for centuries. 

"He raised me," Julian stated, watching Geralt's features closely for his reaction. Outwardly Geralt didn’t react; he merely blinks back at Julian sleepily as he waits for the Cat to continue. "When I was born, my father Letho took me to the Cat’s keep; he left me there to be put through the trials and trained. The other Cats they hated me; they thought I was an abomination." Julian paused for breath, turning away from Geralt, his blue eyes filling with tears. 

"About half a century later Letho came back, he saw the way they treated me, they would beat me and yell insults at me, and I guess Letho couldn't watch his child go through that. I'm not sure why he took me; he never told me." Julian chuckled wryly. Geralt continued to listen patiently to Julian's story. 

"When he took me from the keep I wasn't in great shape, so he brought me here to Vesemir. Letho had never cared for anyone, whereas Vesemir had cared for you and your brothers. From then Vesemir travelled with us through all seasons except for Winter when he would return to your keep. Together Vesemir and Letho raised me, they protected me and comforted me as I grew up. In all honesty, Vesemir is as much a father to me as Letho." Julian finished, his teary eyes watching Geralt. The older Witcher clasped one of Julian's dainty hands in his large palm, attempting to comfort the younger Witcher. 

Julian smiled, appreciating the comforting gesture from the Wolf. "We should get breakfast started," Julian said, lifting himself from where he laid pressed against the wall. He contemplated the best method for getting out of the bed, settling on trying to climb over Geralt quickly. 

Julian threw a leg over Geralt's waist, his palms pressed firmly against Geralt's bare chest, the flesh was hot beneath his hands as he kept himself steady. Precariously straddling the older Witcher's hips, trying to ignore the warmth of Geralt's toned body where he rests beneath Julian's thighs, the Cat continues to shift his body as he tried to extricate himself from bed. 

He felt two large palms envelope his waist, fingertips snaking beneath his bed shirt to dig into the flesh of his hips, holding him firmly in place. Julian releases a bitten off gasp, a mixture of shock and pleasure, his movements ceasing as he settles himself more firmly atop Geralt's crotch. "Julian I... I'm sorry." A warmth settled in Julian's chest as he looked down at the man. Geralt's hair laid sleep mussed across the pillow, his golden eyes sleepy, eyelids heavy and fluttering as he fought against the urge to close them, his fingertips were a gentle warmth against the flesh of Julian's hips. 

Julian smiled warmly, gently removing Geralt's grip from his waist so he could continue to get up. Julian pulled his gaze from Geralt's.

"We should go now," Julian said, already missing the familiar heat of Geralt's body.

~~~~~~

In the kitchen they began to prepare breakfast. The roaring fires efficiently warmed the room as they stood side by side, chopping various fruits. As they sliced and diced, preparing breakfast for themselves and the other Witchers the air began to crackle with chaos, intense purple sparks spilling around them as a swirling portal emerged beside them. Two figures stood silhouetted by the gleaming purple light of the portal. One a young girl, Julian can just about make out the familiar striking silver colour of her hair, and standing beside her outfitted in the finest deep red satin dress stands a beautiful woman, with dark brown hair cascading across her shoulders. 

"Fuck," Geralt mumbled from beside him as his eyes lock on the two figures standing before them. 

"Who's the new Witcher?" The beautiful woman asked, her eyes raking over Julian’s form curiously. 

"Yennefer," Geralt growled warningly, his tone colder than Julian had ever heard it. 

"Oh relax Geralt, I'm just dropping Ciri off, winter is your season to have her after all." The witch stated flippantly. She released her hold on the child's hand, crouching down to whisper sweetly to the young girl before stepping backing into the swirling, crackling portal.

Julian looked between the young girl and Geralt, his forehead furrowed in confusion, icy dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Daddy," the girl squealed in excitement as she bounded across the space, flinging herself trustingly into Geralt's waiting arms. "I missed you daddy," she whispered where her face was buried in Geralt's neck. Julian's heart ached at the sight as he remembers the countless nights of his own face buried in Lethos’ neck, seeking the warm comfort only a parent can provide. 

"Geralt," Julian’s throat felt thick as he tried to swallow, his head swimming, blood rushing in his ears as he watched the scene before him unfold. Julian was smart; he saw the signs, but he needed the confirmation from Geralt. 

"Julian this is um... This is my daughter Cirilla. Ciri, cub, say hello to Julian," Geralt instructed softly, still tightly embracing the young girl. 

"Hello, Julian," the girl greeted kindly, pulling herself from her father's grip. She offered Julian a hand to shake. "Are you okay?" she asks her head tilted to the side as she inspects Julian. The Cat released a half chuckle half sob as he smiled down at the girl. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you Cirilla, but I am afraid I must take my leave, please excuse me," A couple of tears spill from Julian's eyes as he looks at Geralt, the man looking guiltily back at him. 

"Julian..." Geralt starts, staring back at the man imploringly. Julian shook his head, one hand raised to stop the man from speaking, not wishing to lose his composure in front of the young girl. 

"Please Geralt, just don't," Julian pleaded, quickly fleeing from the room. Once out of Geralt's eyesight tears fell freely from his eyes. The tears disrupted his vision, causing the young Witcher to barrel into Vesemir. 

"Julek?" Vesemir questioned, gripping the boy firmly by his shoulders, watching in horror as tears fell from his eyes. 

"Please Ves, not now," Julian breathed shakily. "I can't, I'm sorry," He wrenched himself from Vesemir's grasp and ran through the keep until he was barricaded securely in his and Geralt's room. 

Julian fell to the frozen ground, sobs wracking through his body as he curled in on himself, his face buried in his hands as his tears flow freely. His voice turned hoarse with his sobs, his chest aching. He loses consciousness, cries finally exhausting his body until he lay limply curled in a ball on the cold ground of Geralt's chambers. 

Julian woke several hours later. He emerged from the room, his stomach grumbling, complaining about the missed meal. As he gingerly trailed to the kitchen, his body ached. His muscles and bones protested against every movement; his chest ached from the strength of his earlier sobs, his eyes still puffy and raw. 

"Julian," Geralt exhaled. Julian could almost convince himself it was relief he saw cross the man's face. Beside him sat Vesemir, a worried frown creasing his forehead as he watched Julian enter the room. Lambert turned to throw Julian a brief dirty glare, Eskel counteracting his brother glare with a small, fleeting smile before turning back to what Julian guessed was some type of stew. "Are you hungry?" Geralt asked carefully, the man moving to collect Julian a bowl. 

"No... No, I think I'm going to return to our chambers, thank you," Julian responded respectfully, an empty smile forming on his face. He found himself unable to meet Geralt's gaze, his heart thudding in his chest as he tried to make a hasty exit. 

Geralt ignored the Cat's response and placed a bowl beside his own.

"Julian, please, sit."

Julian scowled as he turned back to the table of Witchers, cursing himself for being unable to deny Geralt. 

"You should've told me," Julian grumbled out barely concealing his anger, his face resolutely turned away from Geralt as he spoke his words burning with malice. 

"Maybe you didn't deserve to know Cat," Lambert spat venomously from the other side of the table. Julian unable to contain his temper, agilely launched himself across the table in an instant. Grabbing the young Wolf by his throat, the force of his body collided with Lambert’s, sending both Witchers careening to the rough exterior of the kitchen floor. Julian struck with ferocity, his blows well-timed as they connected with the Wolf's face, his lips pulled up into a furious snarl. 

Two strong arms hook under his armpits, wrapping around his chest as they lift Julian from Lambert's body, his knuckles dripping the Wolf's blood across the grey stone floor. He doesn't resist as he is held tightly against a firm chest. 

"That's enough Julek," Vesemir demanded, the deep growl in his voice reverberating through Julian's chest. Julian drags his knuckles across his borrowed tunic, not caring if it stains. 

Julian disentangled himself from Vesemir's grip, spinning to face the man. Their faces were mere inches apart, Vesemir's eyes holding a mix between sadness and pity, making Julian's bright blue eyes blaze hotter with fury. 

"You don't get to tell me to calm down Vesemir, you sit by and listen while the Wolves you raised speak of Cats with disgust, you call me your son, and you called my father your lover, and yet you allow them to speak like that about Cats. You don't get to tell me to do shit!" Julian growled lowly, glaring pointedly at Geralt who looked away from Julians burning gaze guiltily. 

"Get lost Cat," Lambert rasped nasally between pained breaths, his nose continued to trickle steadily with blood, the cut across his lip already scabbing over. 

Eyes flicking angrily between the three Witchers scattered around the room, all looking varying degrees of horrified and guilty. Julian held his head high and strode angrily from the room. Behind him, he heard a distinctly Geralt-sounding growl before heavy footsteps are trailing behind him. 

"Julian..." Geralt ground out as he caught up to the seething Cat, he reached out gripping the Cats shoulder firmly, his large hand enveloping the small area of flesh. 

"You'd best take your hand off me Wolf," Julian spat in warning, one of his smaller hands reaching up to cover Geralt's where it grips his shoulder. "Now Geralt." Julian snarled, resolutely not looking at the older Witcher. Julian knew if he looked at the golden-eyed man, his resolve would crumble, and an onslaught of tears would start. 

"Fuck sake Julian," Geralt growled in frustration, "I am not my brother, nor am I Vesemir. I have done nothing but help you since you arrived here, damnit!" Geralt exclaimed panting heavily, using his grip on Julian's shoulder to turn the Cat to face him. 

"No you are worse, you laid with me and listened to me and still kept the fact you had a biological daughter from me. You Geralt are a selfish prick, now fuck off!" Julian screeched. He pulled himself from Geralt's firm grips and raced into the mountains surrounding Kaer Morhen. 

Geralt shot off behind the Smaller man, grunting in frustration. "Julian Damnit... Julian!" Geralt growled speedily catching up with the man. Julian's anger dissipated for a brief moment as he stared in awe at the hauntingly beautiful scenery surrounding Kaer Morhen, Julian found himself jealous, wishing he had grown up here. 

A thick carpet of snow covered the ground, the tree's spindly, bare branches bowing under the weight of the freshly fallen snow. Icy gushes of wind repeatedly knocked the snow from the branches, Julian watched the snow swirl and fall, transfixed by its beauty. The snow glittered and glimmered in strange patterns as the sun's warming rays broke through the assortment of trees. 

"Julian..." Geralt murmured, boring a hole into the Cat with the intensity of his eyes. Julian turned on the older Witcher, dexterous fingers wrapping tightly around the Wolf's throat; he spun violently, pinning Geralt to the rough bark of the nearest tree. Geralt growled, the sound vibrating down the length of Julian's arm, causing the fine hairs to stand on end. 

"Leave me alone," Julian snarled, his feline eyes narrowed angrily. Geralt effortlessly knocked Julian's tense arm from his throat, his movements a blur as he pinned Julian to the tree trunk in his place. 

Julian's eyes went wide and an indecipherable emotion flashed in them, gone as quick as it had appeared. "I am older, and I am stronger, Julian, do not push me." Geralt growled, his warm breath caressed Julian's shocked face. The Cat stood motionless and pliant beneath Geralt's powerful grip. Geralt's corded arms bracketed his head, the hard planes of the older Witcher's body flush against his dainty frame. 

"G- Geralt," Julian stammered out. His eyes flickered to the man's plump, pink lips, as he unconsciously licked his own, wetting them in anticipation. He watched as Geralt's eyes flicked down, his molten eyes tracking the movement of Jaskiers tongue as it darted out to trace along the gentle curve of his lips. One of Geralt's large, scarred hands brushed against Julian's sculpted jaw as his massive frame continued to bracket Julian. 

"Hmm," Geralt mumbled, his breath growing warmer against Julian's skin as the older Witcher incrementally leant forward, closer to Julian than he'd previously been. Julian watched, his mind blessedly silent for once; his eyes dropped closed as he waited for the soft glide of lips against his own. They never came. 

A sharp pain to the side of his face startled him and with a pained grunt, Julian fell to the floor. Beside him on the hard snowy ground lay Geralt, his eyes slowly fluttering shut as he fought to remain conscious, a stuttered growl is fell from his lips as Julian watched him lose consciousness. 

"Geralt... Fuck Geralt" Julian tried desperately to pull himself closer the Witcher. As his arm grasped for purchase, a sizable black boot came crashing down on the limb with a sickening snap. Julian cried out pathetically, hot tears streaking down his face. 

Julian was roughly tugged into a kneeling position; he fought back his tears and pained groans as he kneeled before his assailant. 

"Nice to see you again Julian," a familiar voice purred, their warm breath ghosting across Julian's ear making the Cat wretch. 

"Valdo," Julian snarled, glaring at his old mentor. Julian fell as a blunt object collided with the back of his skull, with barely more than a stuttered breath. The young Witcher limply dropped to the ground, with his consciousness fading his only thought was concern for Geralt and a deep shameful regret for pulling the Wolf into his drama.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, sorry for the late update, hope you all enjoy this chapter. The chapter has a lot of violence, blood and non-consensual kissing so if that makes you uncomfortable or triggers you in any way please don't read this chapter. Comment and let me know what you think :)

Julian releases a pained groan as he comes to, static buzzing in his ears, his eyes flitting beneath the fluttering eyelids. The first thing he notices is the rough exterior of rope biting into his flesh where it's twisted suffocatingly around the skin of his wrists and ankles, preventing him from moving. The second is a familiar baritone voice frantically calling his name. Geralt's voice is rough and gravelly, the depth vibrating through Julian, setting his rising panic at ease. 

"G-Geralt,'' Julian slurs, his words sticky and slow, his tongue heavy in his mouth, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears. 

As Julian's eyes blinked open, he was greeted by suffocating darkness. Even with his mutations it was a struggle to see anything of note about where they were. There was dry dirt beneath his bound hands; he could feel as the dust crumbles beneath his fingertips. He could see the warm glow of Geralt's eyes, their unnatural luminosity illuminating the darkness as they remained steadily trained on him. 

Julian continued with his observations, ignoring Geralt's presence for the more pressing issue, which currently was finding an escape route. The Wolves of Kaer Morhen were used to blunt force; it was unlikely Geralt had thought of anything other than fighting his way out. However, Julian was a Cat, Cats were cunning, and they were fast, he would get them out of this with minimal damage, he had to, Geralt couldn't get hurt because of him.

"You forgot something when you ran," Valdo sneered, his mouth turned up unpleasantly, his voice making Julian shiver. The Cat's blood freezes in his veins, his back straightening stiffly, his muscles contracting beneath the ropes keeping him bound. Julian growls defensively, his lips curled up, baring his sharp canines. 

The out of tune clang of his lute being tossed onto the dirt floor caused the Cat to flinch, his face scrunched up in a wince as the piercing noise resonated through the still air surrounding them. "You used to sing so sweetly, do you sing for your Wolf the way you sang for me?" Valdo purred, slipping two thick, grubby fingers beneath his jaw. 

"Don't touch him," Geralt snaps his chest rumbling dangerously, warm golden eyes flicking to Julian’s. Julian lifts his head in defiance, refusing to be cowered by his ex-mentor, his blue eyes shining with conviction as he keeps his eyes trained on Geralt, the older Witcher unknowingly bringing him comfort. 

"You would sing so sweetly, my sweet Jaskier," Valdo whispers, his vile breath fluttering across Julian's chapped lips. Julian groans, his stomach rolling with disgust. Valdo dug his fingertips painfully into the meat of Julian's cheek, applying a crushing pressure to the Cat's lower jaw, the bone creaking beneath his punishing grip. Julian stifles a distressed whine as he feels the bone creak and bend beneath Valdo's fingers; his forehead glistened with a thick sheen of sweat as he fights the onslaught of pain threatening to break him.

"Useless, you were always so useless, nothing more than a pretty toy, hmm." Julian pulls his gaze from Geralt's meeting Valdo's dull, slitted cat eyes, his own eyes hardened by a steely determination. Valdo pulls himself from Julian’s space; he stands close, leisurely brushing the dirt from his trousers. "Tell me, does Geralt use you the way I did?" Valdo smirks watching as the determination in Julian's blue eyes falters. 

Julian thrashes against the ropes restricting his movements, the ropes tightening and sliding wetly against around him as his delicate skin breaks beneath the abrasive material. "Leave him the fuck out of this, Valdo," Julian growls menacingly, the cold warning tone causing Geralt’s hairs to stand on edge. 

"Oh dear, little kitten," Valdo tuts with mocking sadness, his eyes glinting with amusement in the dimly lit cave they were being kept in. Valdo's fist connects heavily with Julian’s already purpling cheek, Julian's head snaps to the side before dropping limply as the Cat whimpers, cringing as he feels the velvety trickle of his blood falling from his lips. He can feel as the cold air brushes the split skin and blossoming bruises across his abused cheek. 

His apologetic, watery blue eyes meet Geralt's, the older Witcher's chest aching as he sits uselessly watching Julian fight against the pain. Geralt's sharp canines bite into the soft flesh of his bottom lip, the sharp points easily tearing into the supple, pink flesh. The scent of Geralt's blood in the air is imperceptible as it mixes with the metallic tang of Julian's. Julian's blood oozes sluggishly from his lips, painting them red, the droplets of crimson darkening and dampening the dry dirt beneath the Cat. The steady sound of dripping blood pierces the silence. Geralt's heart beats heavily in his chest as he watches Julian's head hang limply, the rhythmic drip of blood connecting with earth unsettling him. 

The toe of Valdo's booted foot violently connects with Julian's ribcage, a deafening snap ringing out through the darkness. Geralt cringed, straining against his bindings, furiously trying to break free, desperate to prevent Julian any further pain at the other Cat's hands. Julian screamed out, the first noise of distress to escape him, his vision blurring as a searing pain burnt through his chest. 

Valdo stepped closer, leaning down he gripped Julian firmly by the throat holding his body inches from the ground, Julians bound hands clawing uselessly at the man trying to break the crushing grip on his throat, His breaths leaving him in wet gasps. "You're nothing but a whore Jaskier," Valdo spat, globs of his saliva spraying across Julian's reddened face. Valdo dropped Julian to the floor, his injured body colliding harshly with the unforgiving ground beneath him. 

Geralt watched on in horror at the vindictive treatment Julian was enduring, knowing a weaker man would've broken already. Valdo tangled his fat fingers in Julian's messy hair, ripping his head back, exposing the vulnerable flesh of his throat. Julian whimpered brokenly under the rough treatment.

"Has he seen you like this Jaskier?" Valdo whispers, his vile breath fanning across Julian's cheek, causing the young Cat to retch. The rough pad of Valdo's tongue connected with the flesh of Julian's throat, the older Cat licking a thick, possessive strip across the man's flesh.

"Don't be jealous." Julian snarks, his voice shaking as he strains against the man's violent grip. Geralt bites back the urge to scold the young Witcher for escalating the situation; he struggles to keep his eyes on the scene before him, his heart constricting painfully in his chest seeing Julian abused in such a disturbing manner. The way Valdo touched Julian, showcasing a familiarity with the young Cat’s body that leaves an unsettling pit to form in Geralt's stomach, the older Witcher fighting down the urge to retch. 

"I have nothing to be jealous of darling, you've always been mine," Valdo chuckles darkly, he grips Julian's bruised face in his large hands holding him firmly in place as Julian fights against his hold. The man pulls Julian into a bruising kiss, his tongue forcing itself past his still lips. Valdo pulls away from the abused man, a thick string of saliva still connecting their lips. Valdo pushes Julian away, moving off in search of something. 

Julian's body slumps tiredly against the solid stone behind his back, his shoulders sagging in defeat as he keeps his ears trained on Valdos retreating steps. He focuses his eyes back onto his surroundings, unable to meet Geralt's searing gaze, shame curling in his gut as he fights back a broken sob. 

"Julian," Geralt whispers gently into the silence; he watches the way the cat's body strains to avoid turning to him. "Julian, talk to me please, what can I do?" Geralt asks his voice thick with guilt for being unable to comfort the young man twisting sharply at his insides. 

"I'm fine Geralt," Julian's voice is shaky and tight, his usual sweet tone now croaky and rough from the bruising that coats his flesh and the strain caused to his vocal cords from pained screams. Both Witchers freeze, the sound of returning footsteps bringing their conversation to a halt. Geralt flicks his gaze to Julian; the young Cat couldn't possibly hold out against the violence for much longer, Geralt struggled uselessly against his bindings, praying his brothers had realised they were missing. 

Valdo walked straight for Julian pushing his drooping head harshly back against the rough wall, the smaller man groaning tiredly as the back of his head connected with the concrete wall. "Arse," Julian growled his blue eyes meeting Valdo's with a rage Geralt hadn't expected from the Cat. 

Valdo laughed. "There's my boy, thought I'd lost you for a moment there Jaskier." Valdo reached out a hand stroking against the Cat's abused flesh; in his other hand, Geralt could see a short blade glinting in the dim light shining from the cave's entrance. 

"Not your damn boy," Julian growls, twisting himself away from the older man's touch as he fought down the acidic sting of bile rising in his throat. Valdo grabbed a fistful of his hair, preventing him from pulling away. He twisted Julian's head until his fiery blue eyes met Geralt's worried golden ones. 

"Think your Wolf is going to save you?" Valdo sneers, forcing Julian to face the Wolf Witcher. "Or maybe daddy will save you again?" Valdo chuckled, his lips brushing against Julian's cheek. Geralt felt a growl rising lowly in his throat at the man's words. "Oh wait, he's dead." Valdo's laugh echoed loudly in the barren space he was holding the two Witchers in. 

Sadness flashed briefly in his eyes before being replaced with a calm fury, Julian's blue eyes stormy as they met Geralt’s, the icy look sending an involuntary shiver through Geralt. In an instant, Julian had ripped his hair from Valdo's grips, his jaw clenching against the searing pain in his scalp. He twisted his head, his mouth opening wide before biting down hard on the flesh of Valdo's wrist. The man screamed out, blood dripped from the corner of Julian's mouth as his canines pierced the man's flesh. Valdo easily knocked him away, his face twisted into a grimace, Julian leant back against the wall, a feral grin splitting his face as a drop of blood rolled past his lips. Julian's shining blue eyes met Geralt’s, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the younger man, the feral gleam in his eyes setting his blood alight.

"Fucking feral brat," Valdo marched over to Julian a wicked smirk on his face and an almost proud gleam in his eyes. With a firm hand on his knee, Valdo plunged the sharp steel edge of a dagger into the meat of Julian's thigh; he closed his fist around the hilt, twisting the blade further into the flesh. Julian threw his head back; his bottom lips pulled between his teeth, his eyes clenched shut, his fringe sticking to his sweat-dampened forehead as he remains perfectly still despite the agonising pain flooding through his thigh. 

"Julian!" Geralt croaked, his mouth moving before he could gain control of it, is bound wrists reaching out for the Cat. Julian's eyes flicked over to Geralt, his heart hurting as he noticed the broken look in the Wolf's eyes, Julian released his lip from his teeth, offering the Wolf a shaky smile of reassurance. He'd suffered through worse alone, with Geralt's unceasing presence by his side he could endure anything Valdos' sadistic mind could conjure. 

"Don't worry Wolf, Julian here is a well-trained Cat," Valdo paused pulling the blade from Julian's leg, the wet squelch sickening as the flesh released the dagger. "I should know, I trained him." Valdo stated proudly as he trailed the bloodied blade down the front of Julian's shirt, leaving a trail of blood in its path. Geralt's lips twisted into a frown, various unrelated puzzle pieces, snippets of stories all meshing together to paint a disturbing picture of the kind of training Cats went through. 

With an effortless flick of his wrist, Valdo's blade sliced through Julian's shirt, leaving the man bound and bare-chested in front of the two older Witchers. Geralt turned his eyes away, refusing to look at Julian's exposed skin. Despite his desire for the younger man he wanted Julian to bare himself to Geralt on his own terms not because he was forced. 

"Well, that won't do." Valdo stomped over to Geralt; he dragged the Witcher by his long silver hair until the man was only inches from Julian's injured body, Geralt resolutely kept his eyes trained on the ground. "Watch." Valdo ground out. 

"No." Geralt spat back, meeting the Cat's eyes defiantly. Valdo tightened his hold on the silver-haired Witcher, forcing the man's head further up, despite his restraints Geralt valiantly fought against the handle. 

"Stop, Geralt, just watch, please," Julian sobbed begging the Wolf, his defiant demeanour finally slipping, unable to watch Geralt fall victim to Valdo’s cruelty. "Please Geralt," Julian whimpers, Geralt's sad eyes meeting his watery ones. 

Geralt gives a slight nod steeling himself.

"Okay," he whispers shakily pulling himself from Valdo’s hold, his gaze slowly moving to Julian's bare chest. The dim light reflected off his torso, his pale skin marred with various scars. 

"Now this is getting fun," Valdo knelt at Julian's side pressing the blade lightly against the toned flesh of Julian's stomach. "You remember the rules sweetheart?" Valdo asked in a mockingly sweet tone, Julian nods stiltedly in response, readying himself for the familiar sting of steel against the sensitive flesh of his torso. 

Beside him Geralt gasped, his pupils blown wide, bound hands trembling where they rest against the dirt. Valdo drags the blade repeatedly against Julian's torso's soft flesh, the young Cat counting the cuts steadily, his voice barely more than a whisper. Blood steadily pools to the surface of each shallow slice left behind by the blade's sharp edge. Julian's icy blue eyes meet Geralt's he flicks his eyes down to the blade before tossing Geralt a subtle wink. 

Julian has Valdo on his back in a flash of unexpected movement; blade clasped in his hands. He smirks up at Geralt, who sits staring slack-jawed at the young Witcher, his eyes shining in awe. Valdo squirms uselessly beneath Julian's muscular thighs, the younger Cat smashing the hilt of the dagger violently against Valdo’s temple, the man's eyes rolling back into his head. 

"Julian," Geralt whispers, hands reaching for the injured Witcher. 

"Not now Geralt," Julian's voice is a strained waver as he speaks, he slips the knife's edge out of his palm, blood trailing down his dainty, still bound wrists. With his hand now round the hilt Julian makes quick work of divesting them of their bindings. "Fuck," Julian groans as searing hot pain floods through his leg like lightning. 

Geralt's eyes land on the hole in Julian's leg that is still steadily oozing blood, alongside the various slashes across his torso. Without a second thought or a moments hesitation, Geralt sweeps Julian's lithe frame into his muscular arms. On slightly unsteady legs, he begins the trek back to Kaer Morhen Julian cradled protectively against his chest, the young Witcher's blood slowly soaking through his tunic. 

"You brute," Julian slurs playfully as his vision begins to cloud, finally giving himself over to unconsciousness now that he is safely held in Geralt's caring embrace. Geralt watches as the younger man goes limp in his arms, his steady pulse a comforting sound in Geralt's ears as he gets them back to the safety of the keep.


	6. Chapter Six

Julian regains consciousness slowly; searing pain coursing through his body. As he came to, he could feel a small unfamiliar frame tucked into the curve of his side, cold hands wrapped around his stomach and the heavy pressure of a relaxed head resting against his bruised chest. As his heavy eyes blink open, he finds a mess of long silver hair curling over his throat and sprawled over his bare chest. 

"Umm," he mumbles in confusion, his voice thick with sleep, tongue heavy in his mouth, his forehead pinched as a fresh wave of pain ignited through his abused body. He stares down at the young girl, his sleepy haze receding as his tired eyes rove over the girl's visible features. His heart aches in his chest as he fights against the impulse to tuck the small girl protectively beneath his arm. 

"Hello," A sweet voice chirps, as he registers Geralt's daughter, Cirilla staring up at him from where her head rested against his bare chest. Her hair flowed in long waves over his bruised torso; her eyes were an unusual mix between Geralt's golden eyes and a striking violet colour similar to the sorceress' deep purple ones. "Dad always says that cuddles help people heal," She states, her bright eyes fixed on Julian as she speaks, Julian flashes the girl a gentle smile, the young Witcher had always adored children despite the fact most children cowered in fear when they saw him. 

"Cirilla." The two bodies in the bed visibly startled at the unexpectedly harsh snap of Geralt's voice where he lingered in the doorway to the room. His frame was tense as he slowly made his way further into the room. "I'm sorry Julian," Geralt apologised, his voice significantly softer upon realising the younger Witcher was awake. His eyes remained trained on his daughter, his reprimanding glare a stark contrast to the soft words spoken. "Ciri what did I say?" Geralt's voice was soft, but his tone was stern as he came to kneel beside the girl where she rested against Julian. 

"I was just trying to help," Ciri mumbled, Geralt's eyes flicked up to Julians, his warm gaze worried as he carefully took in every detail of Julian's sleep flushed face. Geralt's pale cheeks flushed pink as his gaze strayed to the exposed flesh of Julian's injured torso. "I'm sorry," the girl whispers as she pulls herself from where she's curled against the Cat. 

Julian’s chest constricts uncomfortably as the little girl's big sad eyes meet his. He holds up a hand silencing Geralt as the older Witcher opens his mouth to speak, the older Witcher snaps his mouth shut grateful to Julian for saving him from having to respond. Julian curled his hands into clenched fists; his plump bottom lip caught between his sharp teeth as he fought against the searing pain ripping through his upper body as he sat himself up against the cold wall behind the bed. He carefully pulls Ciri against his side, wrapping a comforting arm around her small frame, he faces the girl using his forefinger to tilt her chin up, so their eyes meet. 

"You don't need to apologise, sweetheart, all your dad means is that sometimes people can get uncomfortable when someone they don't know is close to them, okay cub?" Julian's voice is soft, his tone patient and understanding as he gently explains to the girl. 

Geralt crouches carefully beside the bed, silently watching as Julian comforts his daughter. An unfamiliar warmth blooms in the wolf's chest as the younger Witcher pulls Cirilla against his side. Geralt's eyes slowly roam over Julian's torso, the man's gentle words a quiet hum in the background as guilt pools in Geralt's gut at the various slashes and purpling bruises that adorn the beautiful man's torso. 

"Can I cuddle you, Julian?" The girl asks, demonstrating her understanding of the conversation, Julian's lips tug up into a bright smile, the cut on his lip burning with the uncomfortable stretch. His eyes flit to Geralt, the sudden pause in conversation, drawing the man's attention back to the present. Julian observes Geralt; his pain dulled blue eyes sparking with curiosity as Geralt pulls his eyes from the man's exposed stomach. His glowing eyes fix on Julians, the younger man's mouth twitching up with a subtle smirk before turning his attention back to Ciri. 

"Of course, Cub, come here," Julian said, pulling the girl further against his chest. Out of the corner of his eyes, Julian notices Geralt watching them, a discreet smile tugging at his lips as Ciri wraps her dainty arms around Julian, tucking herself snugly against his side. Beneath the surface happiness, he can see Geralt's desperate to speak with him privately, the larger man's eyes clouded with concern and apprehension each time their gazes meet above Cirilla's head.

Geralt and Julian look to the door as a gentle knock breaks the silence. Standing in the doorway is Vesemir. His appearance was not unexpected, however, stood nervously at his side is Lambert, who steadfastly avoids Julian's curious gaze. Vesemir has a medicine bag slung over his shoulder as the two Wolves approach the bed.

"Ciri why don't you go track Eskel down and get him to spar with you?" Geralt suggests gently, urging the girl to leave from his crouched position beside the bed.

"But-" 

"Hey Princess, listen to your dad alright, I'll come to find you later, okay? Go spar with Eskel." Julian interrupts before a father-daughter argument can erupt. He sees as Geralt visibly deflates beside them an audible sigh escaping him, relief flooding his pinched features, some of the tension in his frame easing. Julian tucks a long strand of soft silver hair behind the girl's ear before shooing her off the bed with a gentle smile. She skips from the room, bidding the four Witchers a bubbly farewell, sparing Julian a worried glance, the young Witcher flashed her a reassuring smile in return before she leaves. 

"Thank you," Geralt murmurs quietly as he moves to perch himself beside Julian on the bed. Julian nods, quickly raking his eyes over Geralt's form, the man's shoulders are still stiff with an uncomfortable amount of tension, and his vibrant eyes flooded with concern. 

"Well I take it this isn't a social call," Julian snarks, inviting the two Wolves to sit on the end of the bed by his feet. Vesemir settles against the mattress with familiarity, effortlessly comfortable in the Cats presence. In contrast, Lambert anxiously perches on the edge, his eyes flicking nervously around the room. Geralt briefly tenses at his side, his concern filled eyes peering carefully down at Julian. The Cat can feel frustration bubbling up through his aching body as the Wolves gingerly dance around the situation as if he were a frightened animal. A low growl rumbles from his chest, his ribs protesting as the vibrations of the menacing growl, painfully rip through his chest. "Spit it out," Julian snarls his patience for the Wolves trepidation wearing thin. "And for Melitele's sake Lambert, would you calm down." Julian snaps, the wolf's nervous behaviour setting him on edge.

"Julek, please calm down. You are only going to injure yourself further," Vesemir reprimands him. "We need to know what happened, Geralt refuses to tell us anything." Vesemir settles Geralt with a disapproving look, his words dripping with barely concealed anger as he addresses the White Wolf. 

"I've already told you Vesemir; it is not my story to share,'' Geralt growls, his golden iris' burning as he meets Vesemir's disapproving gaze with a fiery glare. Lambert looks nervously between the two Wolves before flicking his eyes over to Julian, their eyes meeting for the first time since the two wolves arrived. The man's eyes silently pleading the Cat to ease the tension that had been brewing between them, since Geralt carried his limp, beaten body across the keep’s threshold.

Julian sits up straighter, back pressing closer to the rough wall behind him, the coarse stone biting into the soft flesh of his exposed back, the bed’s old wooden boards groaning beneath his shifting weight. He wraps a shaky hand around Geralt's wrist, the barely-there touch easily gaining Geralt's attention. As Geralt's eyes meet his, the anger burning in his iris' quickly dissipates, consumed instead with an uneasiness, a worry for Julian's injured form.

"Enough, Geralt," Julian commands, the man's body wrought with tension beneath his hand. "Geralt is right; it is not his story to tell it is mine." Julian states coldly giving Geralt a warm smile before turning to the other two Witchers. 

Vesemir sighs deeply before tapping Geralt's shoulder silently urging the wolf to move. Julian's heart thuds beneath his ribcage, his pulse rocketing as Vesemir takes Geralt's space beside him. The eldest Witcher reaches into his medicine bag, pulling out an assortment of potions as well as bandages, the sight of the various medical items only furthering Julian's internal panic. His panicked blue eyes flick up to meet Geralts; the older Witcher stands inches from his previously vacated seat hesitant to move further from the injured Cat. 

Vesemir's hands hover centimetres from the bare flesh of his torso, bandages, cloths and potions lay on the bed next to him, Julian's pulse racing faster the closer the Witcher's fingertips get to touching his torn and bruised flesh. "Don't" Julian snaps, his Cat reflexes allowing him to clutch onto the older Witcher's wrist before his hands could touch the sensitive skin. "Please, don't touch me," Julian whines hysterically, his usual Witcher heartbeat increased to an alarming pace as he screws his eyes shut, his hands tightening instinctively around Vesemir's wrists until his knuckles are white. 

Julian can hear Geralt's deep rumbling voice through his panic muddled thoughts, the sound having a calming effect on the young Witchers mind. He allowed Geralt's voice to ground him, slowly he uncurls his fingers, Vesemir's wrists slipping free from their hold. "Julian?" the Cat slowly unscrews his eyes, unshed tears line his reddened waterline, his blue eyes shining brighter behind the wetness. Julian flashes the wolf an unsteady smile as he blinks back the moisture in his eyes. 

"Julek, your wounds need tending to, you can not do it yourself," Vesemir states, every bit the father figure Julian remembers from his youth. The eldest Witcher bites back a small smile as he takes in Geralt's unusual gentleness in the young Cat's presence. 

Julian's posture stiffens, he winces as he straightens, his head held high as readies himself, his muscles aching, fresh trickles of blood dribbling from the slowly healing wounds and broken bones groaning in protest with every movement. 

"Geralt,'' The older Witchers eyes snap to Julian's pleading ones, Geralt's mouth drops open into a surprised exhale, the wolf had been expecting the quick-witted Cat to offer a rebuttal. 

Geralt replaces Vesemir at Julian's side, throwing a furtive glance at the messy pile of bandages resting next to his thigh. "Are you sure? I'm not-" Geralt pauses his forehead furrowing deeply as he struggles to find the right word. 

"Gentle?" Julian quips with a soft, teasing smile, Lambert reannounces his presence with an amused snort, he slaps a hand over his mouth, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he looks between the two Witchers. 

"I think we best leave, Lambert," Vesemir chuckles, gesturing for the younger wolf to lead them out. Lambert looks between Julian and the doorway with a pinched expression, his fists clenching and unclenching as they dangle by his side. 

"Julian, could we speak, later or tomorrow, or whenever you're well enough?" Lambert rambles before cutting himself off, he reaches behind himself, cupping the nape of his neck as he gives Julian a sheepish smile, a bright flush blanketing his cheeks. 

"Sure love," Julian agrees with a sultry purr, his lips pulled up into a flirty smile, the youngest wolf sputters flustered over the flirtation, his mouth gaping unattractively as he stares at Julian. Vesemir shakes his head fondly, his eyes shining with barely concealed mirth as he ushers the youngest Witcher from the room. 

"Damn flirtatious Cats, I hate Cats," Lambert grumbles as he leaves, his words no longer holding any malice as they are spoken. Julian chuckles quietly as he turns to look at Geralt where he finds the older Witcher's intense gaze locked on him, warmth rises in his face as a delicate pink flush colours his pale cheeks. 

The rickety bed groans beneath the weight of the two Witchers as Geralt's muscular form shifts closer to Julian, the Cat takes a steadying breath as the older Witchers proximity threatens the steady beat of his heart. 

"Julian, I need to know you're sure" Julian can see the hesitation in Geralt's eyes, his large frame wrought with tension as his hand's fiddle with the assortment of bandages beside him in an uncharacteristic show of nervousness.

"I'm sure Geralt,'' Julian whispers, his gentle voice breaking the tense silence lingering between them. Julian covers one of Geralt's large hands with his own smaller one, the warmth from the man's hand soaking into the soft flesh of Julian's palm. Geralt's eyes search his for any hint of uncertainty, not seeing any the older Witcher begins sorting through the items with sure hands. 

Geralt carefully inspects the damage inflicted across Julian's torso, his eyes flit from each injury in quick succession, his forehead pinched in concentration as he assesses the full extent of the damage. Julian holds his breath under the Witchers' intense, scanning eyes, his fingertips twitching at his side as he fights the urge to smooth the displeased furrow slowly forming between the older man's eyebrows. 

Julian begins to twitch nervously, the silence grating on his fraying nerves, Geralt's assessing gaze trailing over his naked torso only adding to his unease. Geralt carefully watches for every flinch as the Cat twitches, his enhanced hearing attuned to every pained groan or sigh. "Can we get started?" Julian croaks, his voice shaky as it passes his lips, he sucks in a deep, steadying breath as he attempts to regain his composure, knowing that in mere moments he was going to feel Geralt's hands on his bare flesh, threatening to break his tenuous equilibrium. 

"You need to lay down," Geralt croaks, a subtle flush colouring his cheeks as he speaks. Julian chuckles quietly over the Witchers flustered state, his own cheeks colouring in response. He slowly eases himself down, wincing as the movement exacerbates his already substantial amount of pain. Once he is lying comfortably on his back, he turns to face Geralt, finding the wolf's eyes trained on his lips, where he is once again clutching his bottom lip between sharp teeth. His eyes widen in surprise as the rough pad of Geralt's thumb gently tugs Julian's bottom lip from between his teeth. "Don't do that," Geralt instructs gently before wiping the droplets of blood that gathered on the surface of his split lip. 

Geralt looks nervously between his lap, the supplies and Julian's waist.

"What?" Julian asks, confused over the Witcher's hesitation. Geralt had arranged the supplies, everything was ready for him to treat Julian's wounds, yet the man sat unmoving beside Julian. 

"I need to - Can I just" Geralt cuts himself off with a frustrated huff, before pushing himself up onto his knees, the weathered boards groaning in protest as he gently throws one of his long legs over Julian's waist. He hovers above the Cat unsure, searching Julians face before slowly lowering himself to perch gently over the man's waist, careful not to aggravate his injuries. 

Geralt wobbles slightly as he rights himself above Julian, the Cat's hands instinctively shooting up to grip Geralt's hips while he positions himself over the Cat. His muscular thighs bracketed Julian's delicate waist as he hovers above the man, Julian's fingertips itch to slide beneath the material of Geralt tunic and graze against the soft flesh of the older man's hips. 

Julian lays pliant beneath Geralt as the man's rough fingertips trail gently over his injured torso, a breathy moan escapes him as Geralt's warm fingertips trail across the sensitive flesh above his waistband, brushing across the skin of his hips in their gentle exploration.

"Geralt," Julian chokes out, into the charged air between them. 

"Sorry," Geralt apologises, Julian bites back a petulant whine as Geralt's hands leave his stomach to grab the salve laying beside them. Geralt scoops the ointment onto his fingers before rubbing the soothing cream into his bruises with feather-light touches. 

"Who was he?" Geralt asks, suddenly breaking the comfortable silence settling between them. Julian tenses beneath his hands, his heart thumping heavily in his chest as he looks up to meet Geralt's questioning gaze. 

"Valdo was my mentor," Julian bites out, refusing to elaborate further. Geralt sighs unhappily but doesn't push, his usually warm golden eyes burning with a rage Julian knows isn't aimed at him. Geralt wraps the already healing wounds littering Julian's stomach with a well-practised ease, before leaning back heavily onto his knees, inspecting the bared flesh to ensure he hadn't missed any bruises or cuts. 

"I won't push you Julian, but you need to talk to someone," Geralt states, he carefully brushes a stray strand of Julian's dark hair from his face, tucking it gently behind his ear before gracefully pulling himself from Julian's lap and retreating to the other side of the bed. "I should go," Geralt whispers stiltedly, as he busies himself with the task of putting the medical supplies away. 

"What? Geralt what just happened?" Julian sits up quickly, his hand darting out to still the older Witchers hands where they're fussing with the unused bandages. "Geralt.'' Julian demands his voice hard despite the fact his lips quiver with pain from his sudden movements. Geralt's eyes meet his, any softness replaced with a steely resolve as the man pulls his hand from under Julians, before bolting from the room, leaving Julian with his mouth hanging open in disbelief and a mess of supplies sprawled next to him.   
"What the hell!" Julian shouts at the man's retreating from before falling back onto the bed and staring at the dull stone ceiling as he futilely tries to figure out the reason for the sudden shift in Geralt's behaviour.


End file.
